


Clearing the Air

by nutmeg223



Series: Grimm Behavior [3]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Discipline, Monroe cooks, Spanking, Vegetarians & Vegans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg223/pseuds/nutmeg223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monroe has 'had it up to here your combined idiocy, sir, and the two of you are going to sit down and work it out. Tonight'. </p><p>Otherwise known as, in an alternate universe, Nick and Renard work out their issues.</p><p>Because Monroe is not the Alpha, but he's sometimes the boss of everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clearing the Air

**Author's Note:**

> In terms of timing, I apparently blew up the Grimm timeline. This is post-Plumed Serpent, but apparently Renard and Nick got their act together sooner here.

"Burkhardt!" Renard barked.

Nick jumped, scrubbing a hand over his face. Somehow, Renard always got the drop on him, despite the inconspicuous bike mirror Nick attached to his monitor.

"Sir?" he asked, turning in his chair, hoping like hell the Captain hadn't noticed him napping. Nick's overtime habits figured heavily into the seriously snippy conversation he and Renard attempted just that afternoon. Well, he got snippy; Renard just looked slightly pained. Because Renard apparently wanted to micro-manage everything.

Thinking about it, once he and Renard got the truth out in the open, the older man went all weird on him, about everything. Even his eating habits came under scrutiny. See: micro-manage everything.

"Put your jacket on; I'm giving you a ride home." Renard shut his office door behind him, clearly ready to go if the overcoat gave any indication.

"Sir?" Nick asked again, blinking. He and Renard hardly spent any time outside of necessary Grimm discussions together, and it could stay that way. Their 'relay pertinent information through Monroe' system worked.

"Jacket, Burkhardt. Now. Your Blutbad has apparently 'had it up to here your combined idiocy, sir, and the two of you are going to sit down and work it out. Tonight'. I'm bringing you home."

Nick took a moment to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. Monroe...thought that Nick needed to mend fences with the Captain, and not just due to the whole Royal thing. And also that Nick needed to stop goading him by being a brat, because Monroe swore up, down, and sideways that he wouldn't stop his Prince from giving his mate a well-deserved smack. Nick worried the edge of his mating cuff before making a decision.

He shut down his system and shrugged into his hoodie, albeit while muttering darkly. He'd let go of most of the righteous anger, given how Wesen reacted when they discovered he was "of Kessler blood". It put a lot of things in perspective, including some of Aunt Marie's later journal entries.

Reading the journals, learning even a little about his family history...well, it made him wonder. He understood, at least from a political point of view, why Renard involved himself in rushing Aunt Marie's death. He maybe just got in the habit of pushing it with the older man. If Renard never _said_ anything about Nick's pushing...pained looks and the same expression Monroe wore before doling out a deserved swat didn't count.

"Is that your coat?"

Renard's incredulous question brought Nick to a standstill; he sounded like Monroe about to scold.

"Um, yes?" And really, could he manage something more intelligent? "It's not that cold out, sir."

"The temperature's dropped a good twenty degrees, and it's raining. Wait here."

With that, Renard turned and went back into his office. Nick crossed his arms and waited, muttering to himself about the over-protective tendencies of police captains. Renard returned carrying something dark blue, and handed it to Nick.

"Put that on. It'll at least keep the rain off."

Nick held up a police-issue windbreaker and raised an eyebrow.

"It's yours."

"Put it on."

"It's going to be too big." Nick objected, more out of an insane need to be contrary than any real objection.

"It'll keep the rain off." Renard sounded like he was prepared to stand there and be reasonable until Nick gave in.

Which, perversely, got right on Nick's last nerve.

"I'm fine with what I'm wearing." Nick held the wind-breaker out.

"I'm not bringing you home soaking wet. So, you have two choices: either you put it on, right now, or I put it on you. There are security cameras, as a reminder."

Nick huffed, but finally dragged the jacket on. He would not be caught on camera with his Captain wrestling him into a jacket like a recalcitrant child.

"Thank you, now move." Renard ordered shortly, gripping Nick's shoulder and steering him out.

They maintained a chilly silence from the station until Renard followed Nick into Monroe's front hall. Nick took Renard's jacket and hung both in the closet before toeing off his shoes.

"Shoes, sir," he jerked his chin at the Captain's footwear.

"Excuse me?"

"It's really not worth the argument you're going to have with Monroe later. He hates shoes on his clean floors," Nick explained, peeling off his socks, too, and wiggling his finally bare toes against the floor.

"Hmm." Renard followed Nick's example, not exactly appreciating the juxtaposition of suit pants and sock-feet.

"Monroe!" Nick headed back toward the kitchen. "Monroe, we're home. I brought the...huh."

Renard followed, stopping in the kitchen doorway. Nick simultaneously read a note and poked into the pots on the stove. The kitchen smelled of warm spices and nutty basmati rice.

"He's apparently really serious about us talking things out without interference. We're supposed to have dinner and talk." He gestured at the set table. "Do you like Indian? It looks like tandoori-spiced chickpeas and rice."

"Indian is fine...it smells delicious." Renard ignored the awkwardness and brought plates over from the table.

Nick portioned out rice and ladeled fragrant chickpeas over top before peeking into the oven. He couldn't help the happy noise at the sight of two foil-wrapped packages. He yanked them out and dropped them on the island, blowing on his fingers, and yelped when Renard grasped one of his wrists and inspected said fingers.

"Pot-holders are a thing people use, Nick," he sighed.

Nick made a face at the scold, tugged at Renard's grip, and got precisely nowhere. The larger man easily towed him over to the sink and flicked on the cold water. Nick found himself caged in by Renard's arms, with his Captain holding both his hands under the water.

"Sir, I'm fine. Really." He protested, mostly for the principle of the thing. "You're being really, really presumptuous, you know."

"Considering that you apparently refuse to care for yourself, Nick, some of us feel compelled to step in."

Nick stifled the urge to explain where Renard could stick his compulsion, in detail. Something in the way Renard sounded and felt, weird as that was, stilled Nick's mouth. Renard had a Presence, and in that moment it flared with both irritation and concern. More weird Grimm stuff. Monroe explained the whole thing the other night, but to Nick it sounded more like some New Agey oddity. At least at the time. Now, though, Renard's Presence made him a twitchy Grimm.

Finally let loose, Nick backed away to the relative safety of the island.

"Some people would say that standing between a man and homemade garlic naan is the height of rudeness." He could have stifled the snotty tone, but didn't bother.

Renard wiped up a few stray splashes from around the sink, hung the towel back on its hook, and turned to face Nick.

"Some people might also say that not burning all your fingers is a good idea." The raised eyebrow and crossed arms spoke volumes. "And that bratting like that is asking for an answer you won't like. You might want to think about that."

Nick made a face at the naan and tipped each portion onto a plate, but didn't deny the accusation. He nudged one plate of naan closer to Renard's dish, picked up his own plates, and headed to the table.

 

* * *

  

Later, ensconced in the living room with coffee and Monroe's famous vegan coconut cream tart, Renard broached The Subject.

"So, Nicholas," he began mildly.

Nick twitched involuntarily. 'Nicholas' invariably heralded a lot of trouble, and despite the mild tone, he got the same sort of "You're in trouble" vibe from the Captain as he did from Monroe, along with that "Higher in the Pack Order than You" vibe. Although, Renard's vibe felt more like "Higher in the Pack Order than the Rest of Humanity".

He really had to stop hanging out with pack-oriented Wesen. Maybe find some non-Wesen friends who weren't Hank or Wu. Join a book club or take up knitting or something blessedly normal. He swallowed hard on nerves as Renard  regarded him very seriously. Even his near-legendary chutzpah (well, that's what Wu called it) failed in the face of Captain Renard.

"Yes, sir?" Nick cleared his throat.He couldn't go wrong with polite.

"You are as fully aware as possible of who I am and what I do in this city, yes?"

"Um, yes sir? I...I don't...I understand, a little bit, about Aunt Marie. I read her journals. It's not...it's not _okay_ , but it's less..." Nick fidgeted with his mating cuff, running his fingers over the crest tooled in the leather.

"I understand." Renard regarded him gravely for a moment. "I am sorry. I know you loved her very much."

"She was just Aunt Marie." Nick shrugged. "I'm not angry anymore, sir, not like I was."

"I appreciate your honesty, Nicholas." Renard paused. "Although, that leads directly into my next question for you. So, why then, Nicholas, when I am clearly an ally, do you continue to treat me like a particularly moronic enemy and lie to me about your own health and safety, which I'm assuming you've been doing for years, _and_ cases involving the Wesen world? In addition, your recent behavior has been just north of completely unacceptable. Any other officer would have been written up several times for the...the _sass_ that's come out of your mouth. I've made several allowances, considering the...extenuating circumstances."

To be perfectly fair, Nick thought, he lied like a rug to _everyone_ about his own health and safety. As he processed the Captain's tone, his hind-brain danger sensor, the one that usually didn't work at all, kicked into overdrive. He gaped at the other man, trying to think of a reason for his less-than-truthfulness that wasn't the panicked litany of "Shit! Shit! Shit!" running through his head. He wasn't even going to touch "sass" with a ten foot pole.

"I...you see..." he stalled.

"A reason that isn't habit or sheer bull-headedness?" Renard's tone remained deceptively mild. "I've mostly ignored your impertinence, as I gave you a very good reason to be angry with me. I had hoped, though, that you would choose to speak to me, eventually, instead of hiding behind childish sniping and sulking."

"No, sir. I don't really have a good reason for lying to you." Nick all-but-whispered, defeated. Renard radiated disapproval at him. Looming disapproval.

"That's what I thought. As helpful as Monroe and Rosalee are, there are going to be things that they can't help you with. They have many more limitations on what they can do in our world than I do. From now on, I want you to tell me if you're injured. You will also let me know immediately if you suspect the case you're on is Wesen-related, no more waiting until you're positive. I want to know immediately. Am I understood?" Renard kept his voice steady and his tone firm.

"Yes sir, crystal clear."

"Good. You have the worst poker face known to man, Nicholas, so I'll always know when you're trying to lie to me. I can assure you, though, if you try it, I will make absolutely certain that sitting comfortably is a distant memory for you."

"Sir!" Nick objected, gaping. What was it with the Wesen world and spanking him? "You can't!"

"Our world is an extremely dangerous one, Nicholas, and in this case expediency trumps discussion. Discipline is necessary, physical, and swiftly applied. I will not have an undisciplined boy running around my Canton, making things more difficult."

"I don't...I won't..." Nick struggled for words, horrified at the idea even as he felt safer with each of Renard's calm assertions.

"Look at me." Sean's voice gentled. "You need more than Monroe riding herd on you. The Wesen in Portland need to know that you are both an ally and within my sphere of influence. A sore backside is preferable to a lot of what could happen to you. If I think it's necessary to stop you taking risks or hiding things from me, then that's what I'll do."

"Yes sir," Nick murmured. "But Monroe..."

"The Blutbad knows his Prince, Nicholas, and I believe he's told you he won't stand in my way if I feel correction is necessary. You're openly under my protection, now, so you will be subject to my judgment and my discipline, just as any other resident of my Canton. You're not Wesen, but you come with the territory."

Nick just shifted uncomfortably. This reminded him of several conversations with Monroe that left him eating dinner standing up. The sheer level of hierarchy in the Wesen world made his head spin sometimes, even as it irritated him past bearing. Monroe once smirked and called him 'so delightfully American about it.' And then he laughed at Nick's growling. Well, he'd maybe smiled a little, but Nick felt laughed at.

"So we'll take care of one issue, now that we understand each other."

Nick didn't see it coming. He found himself, slightly winded, face down over his Captain's lap and staring at the sofa cushions. A thunderous swat landed on his upturned backside, and he yelped. His jeans offered NO protection.

"Sir!" he objected, squirming madly.

Renard only landed another resounding swat.

"We'll just consider this payment for all the untruths and half-truths you've told me. I don't appreciate you thinking I'm moronic enough to buy even half your explanations, Nicholas."

Nick gripped Captain's Renard's leg and concentrated on not yelping. He didn't need to give up any more of his dignity.

Eight swats. Renard only smacked him eight times, but it burned. More than six from Monroe meant he'd annoyed the Blutbad enough to make a stinging point. This...this left him gasping when Renard righted him. He fought the urge to put his hands back and rub.

Renard reached up and cupped Nick's cheek.

"We move forward with a clean slate. We'll both be more transparent."

"Don't see anyone spanking you," Nick muttered sullenly, ran what he'd just said back through his brain, and closed his eyes. Why couldn't he ever learn to _filter_ around Renard?

"There are some perks to being the Prince." Renard's voice sounded oddly choked, but he patted Nick's cheek in a way that seemed fond. "Now, sit down and take me through some of what you've tried to keep from me, hmm? I have a feeling I'm missing some of the pieces here."

"Monroe will want to make sure we haven't killed each other, either, sir." Nick dropped onto the sofa, curling sideways onto one hip so he could face Renard. "You might as well have another cup of coffee and wait, or you'll get a crabby text, later."

"I'll wait until he gets back." Renard promised. "Now, I think you owe me a few explanations. Your reports, both verbal and written, have been sketchy recently, and that's being kind. And you can also explain why I'm getting letters asking about The Burkhardt House for Wieder Wesen?"

Nick sighed, weighed his chances of getting to a door before Renard, and then re-weighed his chances of getting out of the whole situation un-smacked if he ran. He figured Renard would like the whole idea, but maybe wouldn't like not being asked before everything started happening.

"It's kind of a long story?" He hedged.

"It's a good thing we have a while until Monroe comes back, then, isn't it?" Renard raised an eyebrow.

Nick fidgeted at his tone.

"So, umm, the whole idea started with the Barry Rabe situation, and then got serious after Gracie and Hanson, and with Juliette staying with her family right now, we thought it would be a good time to get started..."


End file.
